


a change in circumstance

by Pomfry



Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fix-It, Juliet is less naive, Male-Female Friendship, Mutual Pining, and Romeo is less of a creep, i tried with the dialogue but then i had fun and so stopped trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 21:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14364507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pomfry/pseuds/Pomfry
Summary: In a world where Tybalt doesn't know Romeo is at the party, Juliet is a bit more of a thirteen year old in public, Romeo's love isn't so fleeting, and a different first meeting happens between the two, some things - change. Perhaps for the better.





	a change in circumstance

**Author's Note:**

> Ace Juliet is heavily implied but you can take it any way you want!

They meet at a party. Two children of two sworn enemies, with music curling around them. They meet with one wearing a mask to hide his face and the other a dress to draw the eyes of a suitor.   
  
Juliet is thirteen, almost fourteen years old, and yet she is clumsy, lacking the inherent grace her mother has with every motion. Her shoes catch on her dress and her gestures are too wide, too jerky. She is beautiful, this is true. Her hair is dark and her eyes are bright. Her skin is nearly glowing in the firefight and her laugh is small.   
  
No one ever seems to notice how awkwardly she stands, how often her eyes flit away, her fingers twisting in her dress.   
  
It is too stifling, here. There are so many people and Juliet is nearly overwhelmed. She wants to retreat to her room, to curl under her blankets and sleep the night away.   
  
Instead, just as a man is about to grab her wrist and pull her into a dance she does not want to have, another sweeps her away, a charming grin on his lips as the murmur of the crowd fades.   
  
"I could not help but notice how you looked like a frightened mouse, my lady," he says, the balcony door closing behind him.   
  
Juliet breaths in the cold night air, looking out over the garden. Another man, she thinks with annoyance growing in her stomach.   
  
"I'm afraid you were mistaken," she replies, her voice cracking mid way. Her limbs ache with the sudden growth she suffered the night before.   
  
"And I'm afraid I was not." He sounds amused, as he walks up to stand next to her. He leans against the stone railing, mask catching the moonlight as he speaks. "You were ready to run until your legs gave out."   
  
Juliet scowls, nearly stomping her foot. "I was not!" she protests heatedly, and the man laughs, a little throaty, a little fond.   
  
"You were." At her opening her mouth to further defend herself, he raises a hand, silencing her for a moment. "I am Romeo. And you?"

Juliet hesitates. Here is a masked man, concealing his identity for a reason, and yet he is giving out his name so freely, to her, a mere child. Perhaps he wishes to make her more comfortable with him.   
  
"It is only polite to share your name as well, my lady," he teases, and his gloved hands come daringly close to touching her arm.   
  
Juliet wrinkles her nose at him. "I am well aware of politeness," she says huffily. "If I was not, those men inside would have been scorned by me."   
  
"Oh ho!" He sounds delighted, barking out a laugh that remains in the air. "A feisty lady!"   
  
Juliet smiles despite herself, giggling quietly. She knows her laugh, the one that is loud and deep and entirely true, is not welcome. But Romeo is looking at her oddly, his eyes intent.   
  
"What is it?" She asks, her dress rippling at her feet as the wind picks up.   
  
"Why do you not laugh as you usually do?"   
  
Juliet stops. None of the men inside ever figured out she was faking. "I," she says slowly, something catching fire in her chest, "laugh as is expected of me."   
  
"Your laugh is beautiful, yes," Romeo says, and it's a compliment, of course it is, but she doesn't feel like he is trying to gain her affection, "but I would think that your true one is even more so."   
  
Juliet blinks, then bursts into laughter, the kind that her nurse has tried so hard to discourage. It fills the silence, makes her tip her head forward and cover her mouth.   
  
"I knew it to be so!" Romeo cackles outright, and soon they're both laughing fools on a balcony, laughing at nothing and everything.   
  
Juliet finds she can't stop laughing, mirth with every breath she takes, and soon she is weak kneed, in a way she hasn't been since she was young. "Surely, you must have a sister, for how else will you be so adept at cheering a girl up?"   
  
"Nay, I do not have a sister," Romeo says, grinning brightly. "I am merely excellent at bringing joy to those around me."

Juliet gwuaffs at that. She is acting so inappropriately for a woman of her status, laughing here like a child only five summers old, but that is fine. "You jest, you arrogant man!"   
  
"I do not," Romeo laughs. "I bring humor to my family's lives at the expense of my pride. They find my adventures of the heart amusing, and indeed it must be so! I came to this party tonight to see the face of my lovely Rosaline, in fact!"   
  
"Rosaline?" Juliet asks in surprise.   
  
"Indeed! Instead I find myself rescuing a young lady from a situation most dire."   
  
Juliet snorts. "How valiant of thee."   
  
The balcony doors open and just like that the spell is broken, shattered by the noise if the party inside. A man pokes his head in, face flushed with drink. "Romeo, we are leaving!"   
  
"Aye," Romeo replies, waving a hand. "I will be there soon. I bid thee farewell, Juliet, and take care. Perhaps we shall meet again!"   
  
Juliet smiles and bids him goodbye as well, a giddiness bubbling in her chest. She may have just made a friend.

 

\--

 

Mercutio and Benvolio are as well meaning as always, but Romeo’s thoughts are on the girl he left on the balcony. His heart still belongs to Rosaline, yes, but that girl, Juliet is her name, seemed so small and sad on that balcony. A frown tugs at his lips and before he knows it he's in the Capulet garden, trying to figure out where Juliet would be.

The party is still going on, judging from the instruments still playing, but Romeo doubts that Juliet is there. Even with only a mere half hour spent in each other's company, he knows that Juliet does not like crowds.

“Romeo, Romeo,” says a voice, softly, pondering, and Romeo tilts his head in that direction. “How I wish I knew your real face. Perhaps then I could meet you on the street like friends.”

Romeo smiles. This silly girl.  _ I should step forward,  _ he thinks, and shifts to just that as she sighs and lets her arms hang off the railing.

“Masked men are truly a menace,” she says, and Romeo laughs at that, swinging up and over

“We are indeed!” he says cheerfully. Juliet turns around sharply, face coloring

“Romeo, you scoundrel,” she says, that light returning to her eyes, and Romeo sits down on the cool stone, laughing.

“I am,” he allows, and waves for her to sit also. “My heart aches for my Rosaline, the beauty she is, but that does not mean I am not a scoundrel.”

Juliet rolls her eyes, brushing her hand over her hair, the trinkets she had woven within it making a noise not unlike a windchime. “Yes, yes, you have fallen into a love similar to a void for Rosaline.”

Romeo grins devilishly. “I have! My love is never-ending!”

Juliet stares at him curiously. “What is it like?”

“What is what like?”

“Being in love.”

Ah. Romeo thinks back on the flutter in his stomach, on the way his face turned the color of the sunset when she looked his way.

“It's like flying,” he says dreamily, tilting backwards until he's sprawled out on the floor and looking at the stars. “It's like your stomach swoops out from under you, like you're in the sky and the clouds and you can't ever come down.” Rosaline is perfect. She's as smart as Athena and as beautiful as Venus. She holds the sun in her hands and contains the stars in her eyes.

“I think,” Juliet says quietly, pulling her knees to her chest and gazing at the moon, “that I would prefer to stay on Earth.”

Romeo glances at her, falling silent as well. Juliet looks younger than before, appearing almost frightened by the the prospect of being in love, and he can't blame her. Love is terrifying even when a person experiences it for themselves, and she has never experienced it herself. Romeo has and sometimes it scares him too, how his devotion overwhelms him sometimes.

He places a hand over hers. She startles, giving him a sharp glance.

“Falling in love is exciting. Don't dread it,” he says warmly, and Juliet nods, almost timidly.

They stay like that for the rest of the night, side by side and simply enjoying the time spent together, talking about everything and nothing at all.

Romeo thinks that he's made a friend.

(He doesn't notice the fact that he took off his mask at some point between talking about favorite foods and annoying cousins. He's too caught up in the brightness of this girl, drawn in like gravity, like she's the sun and he's the Earth. He's too distracted by a story of Tybalt falling on his face when he was younger, too busy smiling.)

 

\--

 

Time passes. Autumn twirls by in a whorl of leaves, Romeo sneaking into Juliet’s room to share new stories and jokes and laughter. The leaves turn gold and orange and red, and Benvolio blows some in Mercutio's face, laughing as he runs away. Winter is filled with snow, cold and white, that's ruined by Juliet leaping into it, giggling madly as she throws a snowball at Romeo’s head. The outside is freezing as the New Years pass and Mercutio makes them all wear thick clothing, puffing up as he lectures. Romeo meets Juliet's eyes as they pass in the street and sprinkles some snow on her hand.

Spring blows in with flowers blooming underneath their feet, and they shed their layers bit by bit as the rain falls. Mercutio drags Romeo out into the water, a silly grin on his lips as they splash in the little lakes on the street. Benvolio finds them, already starting to scold about a cold, and Mercutio grabs him by the hand and jumps in a puddle, getting both of their shoes wet. Benvolio scowls as the rain pounds against his head, but one look at his friends’ happy expressions and he caves. Mercutio cackles for five minutes, even after Benvolio pushes some mud in his face.

Romeo teaches Juliet about geography and ancient history using books instead of the spoken word, smiling softly as she catches on quickly. In return, she leads him into dances, laughing as he nearly trips over his own feet. They sing on the days when they both escape, arm in arm as they walk beneath the trees, badly sung songs echoing in their ears.

Summer comes with a blast of heat that leaves Romeo complaining, Mercutio without energy, and Benvolio short tempered. Paris comes and dines with the Capulets, always polite and charming, but, as Juliet grumbles to Romeo later as they lay on her bed, books between them, his eyes always wandered back to her. Romeo tells her that he'll fight for her honor and she shoves him off the bed.

Rosaline has long since lost Romeo’s fancy, so focused on his friends as he is. Indeed, compared to the glowing and ever growing bonds Romeo has, she is but a mere speck. 

“So you have healed from Cupid’s arrow at long last,” Juliet says with a sarcastic lilt to her voice, and Romeo sputters angrily.

“You make me sound as though I am but a schoolboy with a crush!”

“That is precisely what I am saying,” she replies, and ducks into the washroom with a grin, Romeo sticking his tongue out at her as she goes.

Summer draws to a close with the Montagues throwing a party, clearly determined to show up the Capulets from the year before. Mercutio grins like a he just became prince as Tybalt marches Verona, a snarl twisting his lips.

“Look here!” he calls gleefully. “Look here! The Prince of Cats is disgruntled! Perhaps we should wave a feather for him!”

Benvolio rolls his eyes but chuckles along as Romeo tugs some grass flourishing between stone, dirt sticking to the roots, and tosses it at Tybalt’s back. Juliet, who has grown within the year, laughs quietly behind her hand as she follows after her cousin. She comes up to Romeo’s shoulders, now, and she is still clumsy as ever. Romeo holds up two fingers as she passes and she nods, dress trailing behind her. They will meet in two hours.

Mercutio ribs him, a joking upturn on his lips. “It has been a while since a woman has caught your eye, no?”

Romeo waves him away. “Nay,” he sighs, for this topic has been broached many a time before. “The young lady is merely a woman I have seen around and have conversed with upon occasion.”

Benvolio, having known him for longer than time can tell, raises an eyebrow at this. Romeo loves intensely and quickly, with the strength of the sun. Because of this, he does not give his attention to those whom does not have any importance to him. He cannot afford to - he will burn out if he does. “And does the young lady have a name?”

Romeo laughs nervously, scratching his cheek. “Juliet,” he says. “And no more.”

“Dost thou think of inviting Juliet to the party?” Mercutio asks, leaning in close. Romeo pushes him onto the grass.

“Mayhaps,” he concedes, and graciously ignores the ecstatic grins his friends shoot each other behind his back. If he didn't, he would make to fight them. And Juliet does not like fighting.

He wonders when that started to matter. Perhaps six months ago, when she said that their petty feud is pointless. Perhaps nearly a month ago, when she didn't say a word as she bandaged his wounds from a spar, her hands stiff. Perhaps when she smiled at him, radiant as the sun. He doesn't know when, exactly, only that it does.

And Romeo hates disappointing those he cares for.

 

\--

 

Juliet meets him in the meadow they've been meeting in since it was warm enough to do so, apple red cheeks stretched wide over her smile. “Oh, Romeo,” she sings, her voice beautiful as always. She only sings terribly when she doesn't care, and Romeo has found that he prefers it when she sings like a harpy with laughter intertwined within.

“Yes?” He says loudly, and she crashes into him, thin fingers grasping at his clothes as he stumbles back. “Juliet, it is wonderful to see you!”

“And you as well,” she replies as he sets her down. “Now what is this party I've been hearing about all over town?”

Romeo shrugs. “‘Tis merely a party. We Montagues are not to be outdone by you Capulets.”

Juliet groans, hanging her head dramatically. Her feet shift as she starts to wave her arms about, a sure fire way of telling if she's frustrated. “Tybalt has been making the servants scared with his storming and shouting all week! Father has been scowling harder than usual as well, muttering about those damn Montagues.” Romeo laughs at that, because his father did the same thing when the Capulets had their party last year. “Oh, shush you!”

“Never,” he says joyfully. “Those Capulets are a rowdy, dishonorable bunch.”

“Then I must be just as rowdy and dishonorable,” Juliet counters, and Romeo nods solemnly.

“I'm afraid it is so.”

Juliet gasps, hand flying to cover her painted mouth in offense, staring at him. Romeo stares back for a full minute before they break down into giggles. Juliet sounds like a bell, bright and clear, and Romeo adores it.

“Do I get an invitation,” she asks, a hint of a smile still teasing her lips five minutes later.

Romeo wordlessly pulls out a piece of paper, rocking back on his heels as he hands it over. He wrote it himself, the name curling in gold underneath his fingers, and Juliet smiles in delight. She knows his atrocious handwriting, knows how much time he must (and did) spent on it

“The party is tonight?” She says, her fingers trailing the loops of her name. Romeo's heart is suddenly in his throat as he watches the girl he's come to know smile helplessly against the assault of his heartfulness. Juliet is fifteen, now. He wonders when she grew up.

“I'll be there tonight,” she says firmly, and flashes him a brilliant grin. “See you!”

And she's gone, a small flip of fabric the only thing he sees of her as she vanishes.

Romeo sits down in the tall, tall grass, the sun bearing down on him without remorse. The grass is scratchy against his skin and he breathes in the smell of Italy, of farms and fields. He hears merchants yelling on the street, children screaming as they play games, and thinks of Juliet, of her laugh and her cutting sense of humor.

His heart skips a beat. Romeo’s soft smile fades.

“Oh no,” he says, quite suddenly dreading the coming party, because he knows this feeling, this swooping sensation in his chest, the way his stomach drops. He knows this, and as he sighs at himself, laying his palm over his eyes, he sympathizes with Juliet. Falling in love is terrifying. Especially when a person already cares for the object of their affections.

 

\--

 

The night is young when the party starts, chatter filling the hall. Mercutio has a cup of wine in one hand, half empty as he talks to Benvolio quietly. The calm won't last long - Mercutio can't hold his alcohol, much to his eternal shame and his friends' amusement.

But Romeo isn't looking forward to the inevitable drop from glory. He's looking for Juliet, who hasn’t arrived yet. Mercutio smirks at him over the rim of his cup, eyes alight with mischief. “Looking for your mysterious Juliet?” he asks slyly, clearly enjoying the way Romeo shifts uncomfortably.

Mercutio has long since been his partner in crime in all sorts of endeavors, but Romeo has never liked that spirit for trouble being turned onto him. It spells nothing but hassle for him in the future. “I may or may not,” he says non committedly, and tries to catch Benvolio’s eyes, silently pleading for help. Benvolio, however, has zero sympathies to share, and averts his gaze. It seems he was finally cashing in the jokes played at his expense.

Just as Mercutio opens his mouth to tease him some more, Juliet walks in, gorgeous as she always is. All of the attention in the room immediately goes to her. White fabric seeminly spun from starlight hangs from her wrists, simmering in the low light, and her smile upon seeing Romeo puts the sun to shame.

“Romeo,” she says warmly, and the silver bells intertwined in her hair sounds like the wind at even the slightest movement, “it does me well to see you.”

Romeo grins back, disregarding the way his stomach flips and dies a sad death at the words she spoke. This is Juliet, after all. She speaks with love and with abandon, not caring about who hears. “Juliet! Would you care to gift me with a dance?”

Juliet giggles, taking his hand. “You may indeed!”

Romeo leads her into a dance, muscle memory working in his favor. They spent days like this, feet moving in tandem, Juliet’s hands feather light on his shoulders and his on her hips. For a moment, the party melts away, leaving them in Juliet’s room, and she is younger, hair falling down in waves as she almost stumbles over a book left carelessly on the floor.

“Romeo, does this not remind you of days long past?”

At her question, Romeo pulls his head from the clouds and nods, almost enthusiastically. “So it does,” he agrees, and spins her, the silver around her eyes bringing out the glint in them.

Mercutio winks at them from his place beside Benvolio, and Romeo rolls his eyes back. Juliet grins, tugging at his wrist and leading him to the balcony.

“Does this not reflect the night we met?” she says, and it  _ does. _

Romeo can’t tear his eyes off her. The love burning in his chest is nothing compared to his love for Rosaline. This is slow burning, not a forest fire. This is compiled of all those little memories he shares with Juliet, all those little looks they share. This is made of every secret, every learned mannerism.  _ This is not infatuation, _ he thinks, and then -

_ I thought I knew love, but I did not.  _ **_This_ ** _ is. _

 

_ \-- _

 

A year has passed Juliet by in a blur, and she is fifteen, now, instead of almost fourteen. Romeo is her best friend and she knows far more than she suspects her mother does.

It is fall once again, the trees shedding their leaves that children crush underfoot. Juliet closes her eyes and lets it wash over her. She is unmarried, still, and sometimes the people around her look and point. Romeo offers to fight them, more than once. Juliet merely shakes her head, smiling. She despises fighting, he knows this. “Besides,” she tells him, “the prince has declared if there to be anymore fighting, you all shall die.” Romeo usually falls silent after that.

Nurse continues to fret in her own way and Mother tells her time and again to look at Paris, to consider him as a husband. Father doesn’t say anything of the sort, but she can tell that is what he is thinking. Paris comes over more, staying for dinner and talking with her as they dine. Juliet doesn’t see why she would want to marry him. His social status, his power. Even his appearance. It’s all everything she should want to marry into, but -

But she doesn’t. And she doesn’t know why.

_ Maybe I am afraid of my marriage being like my parents,  _  she thinks one day, watching as her mother and father pretend like they merely live in the same house together instead of sharing a bed. That makes sense. She wants her marriage to be happy. So many are not, after all.

She wants to be able to draw them into dance, into song.She wants to make a joke and have it instantly be understood. She wants to be offered a fight for her honor. She wants dark hair and dark skin tanned by the sun and a truly troublesome smile. She wants -

She wants  _ Romeo. _

The realisation, the epiphany that hits her right as winter starts to come, knocks her world as she knows it off its axis. Juliet sets down her pen, lost in thought. She is in love with her best friend, the one who sneaks into her room and pulls her away from her studies the exact second she needs a break. She is in love with Romeo, with a  _ Montague. _

Juliet blanches, fingers starting to tremble. If her family even knew about their friendship, Romeo would be challenged to a duel and he would lose because he wouldn’t want to hurt anyone precious to her. That’s just the kind of person he is. But if they knew she  _ loved him? _

Juliet shivers. It would be a bloodbath, with Romeo dead at her feet and the Capulets not far behind.

A knock at her window, and she glances up sharply, eyes wide. Romeo is there, waving happily and obviously to the love shimmering within her, and she  _ aches,  _ with everything she has. Why are their families enemies?

Romeo throws open the doors, reckless as a bull, and hugs her close, like maybe he’s trying to keep her with him. Like she’s a glass figure and he’s her protector.

Juliet lets her head fall on his chest. That’s who Romeo is, in the end. A protector. And she loves him with her heart.

 

\--

 

Spring comes and goes within the blink of an eye and once again Paris is at her home. It is summer and she is a day away from being sixteen. It has been two summers since she met Romeo, her love and her friend, and not once has Paris caught her eye.

She sits in front of him, straight backed, and smiles politely with her lips painted dark, the color of pomegranates. She will not be forced to stay like the goddess in the myth. Her dress is red, red like blood, red like wine, red like her cousin Tybalt’s eyes when he sees a Montague. “Lord Paris,” she says clearly, and she has gotten more graceful in the company of others. Only Romeo and Nurse, now, see her clumsy. “I welcome you to the home of Capulet.”

Paris smiles, leaning back. His hair has gotten more gray after two years, she notices, and politely folds her feet at the ankles beneath her dress. “It is lovely to see you,” he responds. “Have you thought over my proposal?”

Juliet has. She has thought long and hard over it, even with Romeo at her side, making silly faces at her until she nearly cries with laughter. She has thought over it, turned it around around in her mind until she’s cross eyed, and every time she came to the same conclusion.

“I’m afraid I cannot accept,” she says, and the carefully constructed plans that her parents have designed crumbles to pieces. Juliet isn’t concerned, though. She will marry Romeo, one day, and end the fighting between their families. She smiles pleasantly as she takes a sip of tea. “Is that all?”

 

\--

 

Romeo has been trying to think of a good present for Juliet for the last two months, and he could only buy several new books and an art set. How funny, he thinks, that after two years he doesn’t even know what to give the woman he loves. Gifts are truly fickle things.

He’s been waiting for this day for weeks now. He’s armed with books and paint and -

“Did you hear?"

Romeo stops, tilting his head and listening in. His mother always scolded him for eavesdropping but he could never shake the habit.

“No, what is it?”   
  
“Apparently Lord Paris proposed to Juliet Capulet and she refused!”

“What?”   
  
“What,” Romeo echoes, nearly silent, and it isn’t a question like the gossiping woman five feet away.

“Yes, she did!”   
  
“What a silly little girl!”

Juliet... _ refused  _ Paris’ proposal? Even after two years of being told to consider him? Romeo clutches the leather spine of one of the books tighter, hope flaring in his chest. Was it because of him?

He shakes his head, forcing his feet to move forward, following the well worn path to Juliet’s room, knuckles white on the box of paints.

Juliet is sitting on her bed, wringing her hands and frowning. Romeo doesn’t like that at all. As beautiful Juliet is when she’s frowning, she’s even more so when she’s happy. Besides, it is her birthday! She should never be so troubled on her birthday!

“Oh, Juliet,” he sings, breezing in. He may knock over a quill. “What troubles you?”

Juliet looks up and just like that her face brightens. “Romeo!” she cries, and he barely has a second to put his gifts down before she is in his arms, her laughing ringing in his ears like angel music. “How wonderful it is to see you!”

“I have brought gifts,” he says without letting go, and she gasps, squirming to be put down. He chuckles and obliges - as if he could ever refuse her - and watches as she clasps her hands together with joy at the sight of his presents.

Then she stops. Her smile grows more timid and she stops bouncing on her feet as she turns to him.

“Juliet?”

“Oh, Romeo,” she says, and the way she says it is lovesick. “Oh, Romeo. I have something to tell you.”

Is it -

“I love you.”

Romeo’s heart stops as he stares at her, at this girl with galaxies in her eyes and the back of a mountain, and her smile falters then falls.

“I see you do not feel the same,” she murmurs, eyes downcast, and Romeo cannot let her do this to herself, cannot let her destroy herself inside out like he did over Rosaline.

“Juliet, I adore you with everything I have,” he says sincerely, taking her hand with his own. “I was just struck dumb by your words, for I never thought you would say them to me.”

It seems that he has one more gift to give. He drops to one knee, and he does not have a ring, but it doesn’t matter, not when Juliet is starting to cry happy tears.

“Juliet Capulet,” he says, and he has never been more serious in his life, not even with confronted with Tybalt at the height of his grudge, “will you be my wife?”

“Yes,” she says through the water escaping from her eyes. “Yes, yes, a million times yes!”

Romeo gets to his feet and sweeps her in for a kiss, their first kiss, the kiss that marks the beginning of their relationship. They will go to the Prince later, sink to their knees and tell him that they wish to stop the feud, that they wish to be married. They will beg for him to stop their families from retaliating, from interrupting the ceremony.

But, for now, Romeo is with Juliet, his one and only, and he doesn’t want to leave. Not ever.

(In another world, Romeo and Juliet are six feet under, united in death as they could never be in life. In another world, Romeo’s love was a bit more fickle, Juliet a bit more naive, and Tybalt noticed him on that fateful night. In another world, Romeo and Juliet never became friends, only husband and wife, and Mercutio perished, leaving Benvolio alone and achingly lonely, forever wondering what he could have done to prevent their deaths. In another world -

Ah, but here’s the thing. This isn’t that world. Perhaps it’s for the best it isn’t.)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always loved and brighten up my day and are saved in my Gmail.
> 
> Also! Here's my [Tumblr.](http://nikescaret.tumblr.com) Come visit and chat with me if you want!


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